OPERA REVIEW; The Pageantry of Wagner and a Young Knight Looking for Truth

By BERNARD HOLLAND

Published: May 15, 2006

CORRECTION APPENDED

In the dark days before CD's, DVD's and bootleg boutiques, piracy of intellectual property thrived, though on a more primitive scale than today. In 1903 the Metropolitan Opera was itself a culprit in the ''Case of the Pilfered 'Parsifal.' ''

Wagner's soaring crypto-religious pageant, in gestation for more than 30 years and finished in 1882, was to be a kind of house opera: its performance restricted to the composer's own festival in Bayreuth, Germany; its function, a vernal reawakening in music and stage pictures, somewhere between a church service and an ancient rite of spring. Not incidentally, tourists would come to see it, bolstering the economy of Bayreuth, not to mention that of Wagner's soon-to-be-widowed wife.

Conscious that international copyright laws had shorter arms in those times, the Met defied the embargo. Cosima Wagner sued but lost. The righteous among the world's opera houses howled, but stopped howling when exclusive rights to ''Parsifal'' expired 10 years later, making the opera available to them as well.

The Met, as it has so often in the last 103 years, returned to the scene of the crime on Friday night, bringing with it a cast of improbable depth and eminence, splendid orchestral playing guided by Peter Schneider and chilled and misty forest settings designed by Otto Schenk. ''Parsifal'' deals in Teutonic knighthood, Christian relics (the spear of Jesus' crucifixion, the Holy Grail), a disgraced and wounded king, evil incarnate in the person of Klingsor (to many, a scarcely disguised symbol of anti-Semitism) and a pure fool whose peregrinations of self-discovery will heal them all.

Recent Met audiences have become accustomed, if not addicted, to the fluid, almost physically sensuous ''Parsifal'' of James Levine, now injured. Mr. Schneider, filling in, conducted with more angles and, in general, a more sober sense of probity, all the while in absolute control of the Met orchestra's transparent sound and subtle responsiveness. Born in Vienna and active in Germany, he should appear in New York more often.

The role of Kundry is that of a lone woman surrounded by men, but Waltraud Meier made it the star turn of the evening. Known as volatile both onstage and off, Ms. Meier is suited to the part, propelling herself into it like a wide-bore, high-explosive cannon shell. This was singing of fierceness and fearlessness, all of it pertinent to the persona she represented. Ms. Meier gives all and takes risks, and her audience went crazy for her.

As Parsifal, Ben Heppner, though a little dry in Act I, sang himself into the kind of voice that has made him our reigning heldentenor. It was also interesting to hear a young sound emerging from the mouth of the traditionally decrepit Gurnemanz. Ren?ape's calm, luxurious command wiped away all traces of the boredom some singers can attach to the part. Thomas Hampson has made something of a specialty of the agonized, desperate Amfortas. Nikolai Putilin was the bald and bulky Klingsor. Robert Lloyd sang Titurel.

It would be customary to say that the five hours flew by. More accurately, this astonishing music made its listeners slower: captive to a different and stretched-out time scheme. Some ''Parsifal'' addicts want it not to end at all, to go on all night. For them there is the consolation of a residue we take home with us, a physical sensation that can resonate inside the head for days.

Photo: Thomas Hampson, center, as Amfortas in ''Parsifal,'' Wagner's final opera, at the Met. Peter Schneider stepped in to replace James Levine as conductor. (Photo by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times)

Correction: May 19, 2006, Friday
A review on Monday about ''Parsifal,'' at the Metropolitan Opera, referred imprecisely to the design of the forest settings. While Otto Schenk, the producer, is responsible for the overall look of the production, the sets were designed by GŁnther Schneider-Siemssen.